


a sad story

by boomingvoice



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M, No Resolution, Pining, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomingvoice/pseuds/boomingvoice
Summary: AJ watching Brian, from 1993 to 2005. Incomplete.
Relationships: Brian Littrell/AJ McLean
Kudos: 1





	a sad story

**Author's Note:**

> Found this kicking around in old files. Posting for my own reference later.

AJ’s more or less in love with Brian, and has been forever. Or, well, maybe not forever, but the thirty years he’s been on this earth, he thinks, have been devoted to either preparing for Brian’s entrance in his life, or dealing with his subsequent presence.

It’s awkward, a little, maybe, because Brian’s married now, has a wife and son, has Jesus, has happiness in the palm of his hand, and AJ…AJ has AJ. AJ has nothing. A string of failed relationships, a longing in his heart, hugs from a child that isn’t his—this isn’t nothing, but if anything, it’s worse than nothing could ever be. The world isn’t fair, AJ thinks. They’re both doing what they were made to do (one: be the perfect husband and father and Christian. The other: love Brian), and if anything was right, their purposes would fit together, dovetail seamlessly so everyone was happy. Instead there’s one jagged incomplete edge, and the only one who feels it is AJ.

* * *

AJ remembers the first time he met Brian. He’d walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder, and Kevin had given him a one armed hug and introduced him to the others. His smile was too wide, and that _nose_ —looking at Kevin, AJ had expected something different. Someone taller, at least. Instead there was this guy, with Kevin’s floppy hair and an easy, sincere demeanor. He’d said “Nice to meet y’all” like he’d meant it, and AJ was fascinated. 

He would’ve gone to Bible College, so AJ tried not to say “fuck” around him at first. But then Kevin stubbed his toe in dance rehearsel and swore a blue streak, and Brian had fought giggles and pretended to cover Nick’s ears—Nick had swatted him away, of course, whined “I’m not a _kid_ ” while his hand still clung to Brian’s—so AJ had eased up on the easing up. Howie’d patted him on the shoulder the next time AJ’d spat out a frustrated “Mother of _fuck_ ”, a ‘welcome back’ sort of pat, so AJ just went with it.

* * *

Brian had never really been single. AJ didn’t know how he managed the boyfriend thing, especially in the early days, when all they’d done was run around from warehouse to warehouse to middle school to showcase. AJ had a hard enough time himself, and he’d been dating his managers’ daughter. Brian did it with a civilian and made it seem natural, because, of course, that’s what he did: acted like a normal person and got away with it. Samantha would fly in and they’d have their moments, Brian giving her every free second he had, and somehow that had been enough. And then the shit had gone down with Sam’s appendicitis, when they’d put off taking her to the hospital because heaven forbid the fans realize the fellas have women in their lives, and even Brian couldn’t make up for that, but still. They’d had years. AJ marvels at that, when he thinks of it.

Marissa had been…there. She’d been more of a friend than a girlfriend, really, but AJ still misses those days. The days cigarettes were alluring, when he could suck down on the smoke and feel it killing him and get a kick out of that. They’d get into the clubs and sip bitter beer, and Denise would smile and shake her head and look away while Donna paid. They had been playing in adult land, visiting and wishing they could stay, but at the end of the day, always, AJ’s ID still only said 16. No matter how much that meant he could do in foreign places, drink and fuck and smoke, that youth made him a visitor to adulthood. That had chafed, back then, and AJ wishes he could tell his younger self that he’s an idiot. Go to the goddamn movies while you still can get by unrecognised, boy. Before the paparazzi knew who you were. Before they cared. Go back and enjoy being a fucking kid, because you spend most of your life being old. 

Brian had known that. Not yet twenty, and he was smart enough to dig into the childishness, cackling with a fourteen year old about the pictures they’d drawn on Howie’s sleeping face, the pens they’d stuck in his open mouth, the itching powder in Kevin’s suitcase. Fitting Froot Loops in his nose while AJ was experimenting with pot, and some how he had ended up being the more grown up, and didn’t that just figure.

* * *

Brian will never leave Leighanne. AJ knows this, the way he knows the sun feels warm and coffee tastes good. But sometimes AJ will guiltily imagine a day that, perhaps, she leaves _him_ (which isn’t fair to Leighanne, because AJ’s pretty sure she’d never leave Brian either - only an idiot would throw that away, and Leighanne’s no dummy) – but he’ll imagine a day where Brian by some magic is no longer a married man, and maybe he needs some comfort, and then, for once, AJ could be a source of strength. AJ would give anything for a chance to show Brian he’s there for him. Another chance.

* * *

AJ doesn’t know why he didn’t go to visit Brian at the hospital. He was terrified, but that’s no excuse. He remembers the call from Lou, the jovial _Our boy’s alright. Don’t know what we would’ve done without him!_ followed by plans for when they could resume their tour, and what the rest of the fellas would do while Brian was out of commission. Like he was out of the country on a business trip, or maybe dealing with a death in the family. Brian could’ve died, and AJ’s last words to him had been “Later, Rok.” The shame AJ feels when thinking of this is so great he can’t think of it directly – he can feel his thoughts skitter around the edges, avoiding dealing with the enormity of the failure on his part. 

AJ thinks that if anything could’ve broken the Backstreet Boys, that might have been it. They’d gone from family to co-workers, then, in Brian’s mind, if no where else. AJ wishes he could relive that time and do it right, because he hadn’t known how much that would hurt. It wasn’t until Baylee, AJ thinks, that Brian completely forgave the group.


End file.
